


I Promise

by fairy911911



Series: 30 Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Childhood, College, High School, M/M, Pining, Self Harm, Soul Bond, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 14:16:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1821454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairy911911/pseuds/fairy911911
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every human develops the familiar soul mate mark. The popular belief of the purpose of the name is to help persons find their soul mate, or “true love” as commonly referred to. It is nearly universally accepted that the name on their wrist is of the person they ‘destined’ to be with. Unfortunately for many, it is not uncommon for one to have a person’s name on a wrist, but for the other not to have theirs.<br/>-----<br/>Dean reached out to the boy. “Promise we’ll be best friends forever and always be there for each other and never let the other one down and always tell each other everything.” Cas’s small grin broke into a full-fledged beaming smile. The boy gingerly took Dean’s hand in his own.</p><p>“I promise.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Day 9: Soulmate Mark
> 
> This took forever to get out. I meant for it to be a slightly longer fic. It ended up being over 16,000 words long. I just really liked the prompt and it just kinda got away from me and took on a life of it's own.*Throws hands up in the air* What can you do?
> 
> Now I don't really beta my work to begin with (which is why often have errors) but because this is so long it's really unbeta'd. Sorry.
> 
> I don't own supernatural or the characters, only the words.

[Excerpt from “The Science of Soul Mate Markings,” Dr. Elizabeth Sutter and Dr. Jason Beck, Boston University]

_Every human develops the familiar soul mate mark, and has been considered a normal part of puberty, often appearing between the ages of nine and fifteen. For females it appears around the time the menstrual cycle begins; for males it appears anywhere between a few months or to over a year after the voice drops into its lower register. The marking can take two to six months to fully form and darken._

_The marking is of a given name of the bonding partner. As the mark forms, the skin on the inner right wrist (though in rare cases it has appeared on the left) will gradually produce more melanin to darken the skin in the shape of letters. This is coupled by a slight inflammation that will cause the lettered skin to rise slightly, not unlike scar tissue. The letters may form at once or appear individually..._

_Little is known on how the name is chosen and why the mark is formed. In ancient cultures, the name was often thought to be the work of gods or spirits. The earliest recorded studies and theories on the markings was by Greek philosopher Aristophanes. He hypothesized humans were originally with two faces, four arms, and two sets of genitalia. The gods had become angry with the humans and had wished to destroy them, but feared losing their worship and tributes. Zeus’s solution was to split human’s in half, thereby successfully punishing humanity through the great pain of being ripped from their other half while doubling the population. The name on the wrist is the last connection with the other half, and the profound bond that created it attaches the two souls together. Later, in the rise of Christianity, it was popular belief that angels inscribed the name on people’s wrists to direct them towards God’s intended match for them. This theory carried over into Islam, and the concept spread along with the rise in both religions. Today it is still a major belief in those that describe themselves as religious._

_Scientists, as of today, still cannot fully explain the markings. Although the reason for specific names are unknown, biological psychologists are fascinated with the physiological workings of bonded pairs. In experiments done on strangers with the other’s name, levels of oxytocin, a bonding hormone released by the pituitary gland during childbirth, breastfeeding, and sexual intercourse, rise physical contact between the two persons. Some recorded feeling heat centralized the inner wrist. Every pair that met in the experiment quickly defined themselves as a couple and later married..._

_The popular belief of the purpose of the name is to help persons find their soul mate, or “true love” as commonly referred to. It is nearly universally accepted that the name on their wrist is of the person they ‘destined’ to be with. Because of these views, bigotry based on homosexuality, interracial marriage, and relationships between those in different economic classes or religions is limited, most viewing it normal. Relationships based on soul markings are taken as highly serious. Over 95% of married couples have the other’s name as the marking. The traditional view of western culture is that dating should only be experienced with the person one is bonded to. Today, society is more accepting of casual dating before bonding, although it is still assumed that one will marry someone with their name on the wrist. Marriages and extended relationships with those not sharing names are shunned and hated in many less progressive parts the country and of the world..._

_Unfortunately for many, it is not uncommon for one to have a person’s name on a wrist, but for the other not to have theirs. There are higher rates of clinical depression, and suicides are most often from this demographic. They commonly are less healthy and live shorter lives, on average by 18.7 years, then their bonded counterparts. The cruel irony of their situation is that society will pity them for the name on the wrist, but shun them if they try to enter a committed relationship._

\----------

_1990 (Birth)_

His parents would tell him that he had a horribly difficult birth. He was due on February 3rd, but was too impatient to wait out the last ten days in his mother. The night before a horrible snowstorm had hit Lawrence, blocking every road and forcing people inside to keep warm. Mary had woken to a light snowfall and Dean’s frantic kicking. By noon she had doubled over with her first contraction.

John had been frantic, unable to get his impala out of the driveway. After screaming, punching car hoods, and another contraction, John had wrapped him and his wife up whatever coat he could find and began walking them the 26 blocks to the hospital. The wind had picked up, nipping at their faces. Mary had to stop every few minutes as the pain of contractions ripped through her body. Eventually they came closer and closer together and it was becoming too difficult to keep walking; John lifted Mary up and carried her through the icy streets the remaining blocks.

At arrival Mary was rushed to a room. Doctors huddled around her as if in a secret meeting, sprinting in and out of the room, encouraging her to keep breathing and pushing. She clutched at her husband’s hand, gripping so tightly he was worried her nails would break skin. But he would never leave his wife’s side. After screaming, and crying, and laborious pushing, a baby’s wails broke through the late night air. At nearly midnight, Dean Michael Winchester emerged into the world.

She held the soft bundle that was her son with such tender care one would think all the world’s treasures rested in her arms. For Mary, they did. Her son’s bright green eyes stare back at her, so much like her own, with such light and curiosity behind them. With her husband beside her, gently wrapping his arm around her as to confirm his presence in the moment, she thought she could never be happier.

What she didn’t know was that eight months later, 375 miles away, another baby boy was born. His was not like dean: he didn’t cry and when in her arms his big blue eyes squinted at his mother in confusion, as if to question who the large creature was. The boy was named Castiel James Novak, after the angel of the day he was born on. And although she didn’t know it yet, he would become the most important part of Dean’s life.

\----------

_1995 (Age 5)_

Dean sat proudly in his car seat, hurriedly explaining to his mom how during recess his team had won a game of kickball against his arch nemesis Raphael. Dean and been “pitcher” and as he rolled the ball to Raphael, the boy kicked it straight back at him. He’d caught it, successfully making the third out and winning the game. He saw his mom smile at his achievement and beamed.

As the car pulled into the driveway he looked out the window and, much to his surprise, saw a gigantic truck parked in front of the neighboring house. Beefy men were unloading all types of furniture - chairs, tables, beds, lamps - and carrying them into the house. He stared at two kids, a bit older than himself, picking on a younger boy. A woman, maybe their mother, was scolding the group while attempting to order the men about.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked.

“Probably our new neighbors,” his mom answered. “Come on, let’s go meet them.” She got out of the impala and walked around to Dean’s side. He reached out to her as she unbuckled him, and although he was getting a bit too big to be carried she picked him up and held him anyways. The two made their way over to the woman, who at closer inspection seemed to be a complete mess. Her hair was falling out of her bun, her loose clothing rumpled, eye make-up left over from the day before. Even Dean could see the bags under her eyes and the weariness of her movements. Dean might have said something, but his mom appeared to be fine with just giving the woman a warm and friendly smile.

“Hi,” she said, putting Dean down so she could extend her hand out to the woman. “I’m Mary Winchester. We live next door.”

“Hello, I’m Naomi Novak,” she replied.

“You look like you could use a rest,” his mom said with a small laugh.

Naomi chuckled. “Well it has been a long few days.” Her eyes fell on Dean. “And who’s this?”

“I’m Dean,” he exclaimed, happy to have the attention back on himself.

“What a nice name.”

“Dean’s five,” his mom explained. “We just got back from school.”

“Really?” Naomi asked, a kind smile growing on her face. Dean nodded. “Wow, you must be super smart. What grade are you in?”

“Kindergarten.”

“My son, Castiel, he’s in kindergarten, too,” she remarked. “He and his brother and sister will be starting school next week.”

“Dean, why don’t you go meet them?” his mom suggested. Dean gave her an “Okay,” and walked off to the group of kids while his mom and Naomi talked some more.

The three kids were playing a kind of monkey in the middle game. But it seemed it had dissolved into the taller boy and girl throwing the ball far over the littlest’s head and taunting him. “Reach for it Cassie!” “Come on, it’s not that high.” “You’re such a baby sometimes.” “All you have to do is trying!” The broke into laughter as the little boy cried, “I’m trying! I’m trying!”

“Hey!” Dean shouted. The older siblings stop throwing the ball and turned to glare at Dean. The younger one just gave a sniffle. “Leave him alone.”

“Who are you,” the girl demanded.

He crossed his arms and puffed out his chest in hopes of trying appear bigger to the older kids. “My name is Dean Winchester, protector of the block and hunter of bullies.”

“Really?” the boy drawled. “And what are you going to do to us.”

“Nothing, Gabriel,” the redhead smirked. Gabriel sneered with her. The little boy gawked at him in awe.

“If you don’t stop I’ll tell both of our moms you were hurting him,” he warned. “Then you both will get in trouble.”

The three had a glare off. Dean felt his eyes narrow and hand clench against his will. They hold each other’s gazes until Gabriel pried away his focus and directed on the girl. “Let’s go play in the backyard, Anna. He’s too stupid to be around.” She hummed in response, but followed him into the house.

Dean moved to sit by the boy, who was staring at him like he was superman. “Hey, I’m Dean.”

“I’m Castiel,” the boy replied in a timid voice.

“That’s a really cool name,” he said.

Castiel tilted his head in confusion. “Most people think my name is dumb,” he mumbled.

“No, it’s awesome,” Dean assured. He paused, thinking. “Although it is kinda long. Can I call you Cas?”

His eyes lit up. “Sure,” Cas beamed.

“So Cas,” he remarked, “since we’re going to be neighbors and you’re going to school with me, I am officially declaring myself as your best friend.”

Cas inspected his dirt-covered shoes as if they were the most interesting thing in the universe. “I’ve never had a best friend before,” he whispered, almost too quiet to hear.

But Dean did, and felt a pang of sadness hit him. He brushed it away with a warm smile focused on Cas. “We’ll you do now,” He looked up at Dean. His eyes were wide and the corners of his mouth were slowly rising. Dean reached out to the boy. “Promise we’ll be best friends forever and always be there for each other and never let the other one down and always tell each other everything.” Cas’s small grin broke into a full-fledged beaming smile. The boy gingerly took Dean’s hand in his own.

“I promise.”

\----------

_1998 (Age 8/7)_

“Cas, open up!”

Cas looked up from his math homework and sighed. He spun in his room’s new office chair to face the balcony that attached to his room. On the other side of the glass doors was Dean, smirking and waving impatiently at him.

It wasn’t uncommon for the boy to be there. Soon into their friendship the boys had figured out that the large tree that grew between the houses was a perfect bridge connecting their rooms. Cas only had to climb onto the branch that grew up to the balcony, move around the trunk, and exit off the one that descended onto the Winchester’s garage. Then it was only a matter of opening the window above said garage to enter Dean’s room. The acted as if it were their personal secret route to each other, but Cas suspected everyone in both houses knew about it.

His friend often snuck over to Cas’s house to hang out or watch movies. This happened most days of the week. But Cas, unlike Dean, actually cared about school and doing his homework before bedtime, and didn’t need his best friend trying to distract him. Like at the current moment.

He begrudgingly walked over to the doors and opened them, annoyance clear on his face. Going by Dean’s puppy like manor, he was ignoring Cas’s expression. “Let’s play some Mario Kart,” he ordered, practically jumping up and down.

“Hello, Dean,” he solemnly replied.

Dean grabbed his arm and pulled him out onto the deck. “Come on, dude.”

“No,” he pulled away. “I have homework, and so do you.” He tromped backed to his desk and plopped down on his chair as if to say “I-am-not-moving-deal-with-it.” His friend followed him in and flopped down on his bed, star fishing out to take up the entire space. Cas rolled his eyes and returned to his work.

He got through two problems before he heard the first one. “Cas.”

He purposefully ignored him and continued on. Silence. “Cas.” This was going to be a long day. He sighed, but kept at his work.

“Cas.”

“Cas!”

“Caaasss!”

“What?” He cringed at his ability to break so easily. It was a well-known weakness.

“Play with me,” Dean whined.

Cas rolled his head to face the ceiling. He imagined God was looking down, pitying him. “I’ll play for an hour,” he stated slowly as possible because he knew Dean would hold his breath until he finished. “Only an hour, and then I’m doing homework. Okay?”

“Yes!” the boy cried, jumping up and crashing into Cas with an awkwardly angled hug. Dean grabbed his hand and the two made their way across the tree into Dean’s house. The raced down the stairs, and Dean revealed in victory as he made it to the TV first.

Cas wasn’t surprised that Mario Kart was already in the Nintendo 64 with Dean already have chosen Mario as his avatar, but it is was annoying to know that Dean knew he would come. Regardless he accepted the offered controller and sat down next to Dean, selecting Toad as his character. It was his favorite: small and unassuming back packing a punch. Dean shot up a knowing look and he promptly ignored him and focused on selecting Yoshi Valley for their first race. Midway through their twisting and fairly violent battle for 1st, complete with insults and shoving and dirty tactics, Mary came in carrying a plate of cookies.

“I haven’t seen you in a while, Cas. What’s it been, a day?” she joked.

“Hello Mrs. Winchester,” he answered as he hurled a red shell at Mario. “I guess you were expecting me as well.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her he saw her shrug. “At this point I assume you’ll be here.”

“Where’s Sam?”

“At a play date. Here,” she offered the tray to Cas. “Have one.” Cas turned to take a cookie as Dean took the opportunity to launch a blue shell at Cas, successfully blowing him up and letting Dean cruise to victory.

“You butt, I hate you,” he grunted as he smacked Dean.

“You love me,” his friend replied, trying to go in for a hug. Cas just shoved him away and turned to Mary.

“Mrs. Winchester, is there any way you can send him to military school?”

She just laughed as Dean selected the next course: Toad’s Turnpike.

“So how’s your family doing, Cas?” she asked.

“Okay, I guess,” he responded as he took off from the starting line. “The only interesting thing I can think of is that I think Anna’s getting her soul mate mark.”

“You don’t know?” Dean responded.

He shrugged. “I haven’t seen it, but she keeps looking at her wrist when she thinks no one is looking and turns completely red.”

“Well that’s very exciting,” Mary offered. “I’ll have to congratulate Anna next time I see her.” Mary walked back into the kitchen, leaving the boys to battle it out.

“I bet you five bucks it’s Balthazar’s name on her wrist,” said Dean.

Cas shook his head. “It’s not him. Anna swears they’re just friends.” He used a mushroom to zoom ahead of Dean. “Besides,” he added, “Balthazar’s not the one who had a crush on her last year.”

“For, like, two seconds,” Dean groaned.

“Four months.”

“That’s it.” Dean threw three red shells at Cas in a row, and easily passed him. Cas let out a muffled shout, but kept going, intent on revenge.

They fell into comfortable silence, but Cas’s mind was still fixated on the soul mate mark. “Whose name do you think you’ll have?” he eventually asked.

Dean gave a noncommittal noise. “I don’t know. Maybe Cassie. Or Lisa. What about you.”

Cas thought about it, but he couldn’t really think of any girl he would want to share the rest of his life with. The only person who came close was Dean. “I can’t think of anybody,” he muttered.

His best friend snorted. “No one. Really?”

Toad’s cart ran into an item box, and smirked at his power up. “Well, maybe you.” Dean’s head whipped around to gape at him. Cas just smiled. “So I can kick your butt in Mario Kart every day.” He pressed the button on his controller to activate his superstar, and his rainbow kart pulled ahead of Dean to the finish.

“Alright Novak, you wanna play? Let’s go.” The boys laughed as they started the next course, all thoughts of soul mate marks and names on wrists escaping.

\----------

_2000 (Age 10)_

Dean stumbled into the bright fluorescent lights of the school hallway, blinking to readjust his vision set for dim lighting. He didn’t even notice Cas catching up to him.

“Dean, are you okay?” He put his hand on Dean’s shoulder, probably in a gesture of comfort, but he shrugged it off.

“Yeah, I’m just...” he searched for the right word, “scarred for life. Yeah, that’s a good description,” he nodded.

“It’s just how the body functions.”

“I came out of my mom’s vagina!” Dean shouted. “This morning I didn’t know girls had a vagina.”

“What, did you think girls had penises?”

“Kinda, yeah.” Cas rolled his eyes, and Dean scrunched up his nose in retaliation. “Don’t act like that. You live with Anna. You probably got all that information with her.”

“No.” he drawled, “I learned about soul mate markings from Anna, but I have walked in on her and Balthazar enough to know basic anatomical differences.”

Dean gave an involuntary shudder. He didn’t know exactly what Cas meant, but he really didn’t want to.

“Anyway,” Cas continued. “I thought it was stupid that they didn’t mention that soul mates can be of the same gender or could be born years apart or might not have your name.”

Dean stopped walking to gawk at Cas. “What, really?”

“Yeah, marking stuff is really weird and complicated,” he explained. “Unfortunately, the school only seems interested in giving us the basic knowledge of standard cases. It’s really dumb.”

“Dude, how do you know all that?” Dean asked.

“Anna has a book about it for school. I read a bit of it for fun,” he replied.

Dean just rolled his eyes in mock annoyance - it was so Cas to read a high school book in fifth grade _for fun -_ and continued down the hall. Cas followed suit. He sighed. This whole marking thing was too weird. “Well, I just hope it’s a girl close to my age,” he said finally.

“What about a boy?” Cas inquired.

“No way,” Dean answered automatically. “I don’t like boys.”

Something flashed across Cas’s face, almost unreadable on his stoic expression. But for half a second his darkened and the corners of his mouth tugged down slightly, and something else crossed his face, but Dean couldn’t place what is was. But as soon as it had come it left, and his best friend’s normal features came into place. He broke out into a run and called back to him.

“Come on, I race you to the play structure.”

And Dean couldn’t resist a challenge like that. He sprinted out of the hallway into the shining light of autumn, determined to beat Cas.

\----------

_2001 (Age 11)_

Cas and Dean were lounging in elder’s bed, listening to Led Zeppelin and purposefully ignoring the pile of homework they both had. Middle school had not been kind in the area of homework load. But with Dean he was learning how to ignore it through the way of procrastination.

His eyes raked over his best friend and studied him: the intensity of his green eyes, the probable softness of his blonde hair, the galaxy his freckles created. He had caught himself doing this more and more in the past months, just observing his friend. Cas didn’t know a lot about friendship besides being with Dean, but he was fairly certain friends didn’t stare at friends like that. He was positive friends weren't fascinated with other friend’s lips and secretly wished they could kiss them.

“You okay?” Dean asked, breaking Cas from his meditation. He hadn't realized the boy had seen him stare. His face grew warm, and he was sure it was as red as Henley Dean was wearing.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I’m just tired.” The age old excuse for everything.

Dean yawned long and loud, stretching his arms in such a way that his shirt lifted to reveal a small patch of skin. Why was he so mesmerized by it? “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go make a sandwich. You want anything?”

Cas shook his head as Dean hopped off the bed and exited into the hall. As soon as he was out, Cas let out a breath he had known he was holding.  It was getting harder to hide his reactions to Dean. Did it mean anything? Did he like guys? Just Dean? What would his siblings think? His mom? She might hate him. What would Dean think if he knew? He could picture to boy screaming at him to get out of his sight or kissing him passionately: there was no in between. He groaned to the ceiling. What an idiot.

Someone knocked twice. He lifted his head to see Mary leaning against the door. “May I come in?” she asked.

Cas sat up and shrugged. “I guess. It isn’t my room to say no.” The woman laughed and came over to sit on the edge of the bed. She gingerly placed her hand on his leg in a comforting manner. “How are you doing, Cas?”

“Okay?” he responded. Where was she going with this?

“It’s just...” She faltered for a moment. Mary probably didn’t know where she was going either. “You’ve seemed very distracted lately, and vaguely upset.” She squeezed his leg. “I’m worried about you. Is there something going on at home.

“No,” he mumbled.

“At school?”

“No.”

“Is it about your soul mate mark? Did you get your name?”

“No,” and he held up his blank wrist to prove it.

“A crush?” Cas was silent this time, unsure of how to answer. Honesty was the best policy, but he didn’t want to talk to Dean’s own mother about him. He rolled over to his side so Mary couldn’t see his face. She must have took his silence for a yes. “Do you want to talk about her?”

“No,” Cas grunted, and he cringed at the venom in his voice. Mary’s hand shot away from his leg. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s okay, Cas,” she said softly. “Just remember, if you ever want to talk about anything at all, I’m always here, ready to listen.”

Cas felt the bed lift slightly as she rose from her spot. He wasn’t sure exactly what was controlling him, but he sat up and called to her. “Wait, Mrs. Winchester?” She stopped in the doorway and waited. Her expression was one of warmth and acceptance. Cas sighed. He had to tell someone. “There is something pretty big on my mind.”

Mary gave him a small grin and closed the door behind her.  She made her way to the bed and sat down next to Cas, putting her arm over him, rubbing small circles on his back. “I think I may like boys,” he finally stated.

He waited for the rubbing to stop, for horror to cross her face, for her to question him, but she just nodded at him. “Okay.”

Cas squinted up at her. “You’re not horribly shocked?”

She chuckled. “I’m not terribly surprised. After all, you never did have an interest in girls.” Cas tilted his head, and the realization swept over him. Unlike Dean, never once had he made comments about liking girls or wanting to date one, and he never had any enthusiasm in discussing them. Suddenly, the last eleven years of his life made much more sense. “Besides,” Mary added, “I’m just happy that you felt comfortable enough to tell me.”

“It’s just that I know he doesn't like me,” he moaned. “And I’m worried I’ll get his name on my wrist and be alone forever.”

“Everyone at your age freaks out over this thing,” she said. “Relax. It will all work out in the end.”

She wrapped her arms around him, and Cas melted into the hug. He could feel himself breathe again. He relished the moment, until Dean walked in with a “Dude, gross, that’s my mom.” Cas broke away to hurl a pillow at Dean, who easily dodged while keeping sandwich in hand. Both he and Mary laughed.

“Well, I’ll leave you too alone,” Mary grinned as left the room.

Dean raised his eyebrows at Cas. “What was that about?”

Cas swallowed, unsure of what to tell Dean. “She wanted to make sure I was ‘doing okay’,” he remarked, complete with finger quotes.

“So she gave you a hug?”

Cas just shrugged and laid back down on the bed. Dean joined them, and two fell back into silence: comfortable for Dean, but painfully tense for Cas. He’d tell Dean about his sexuality eventually. Never would he reveal his crush. That was asking for death.

\----------

_2002 (Age 12/11)_

Dean had been reading the same three lines of text for the past half an hour. He tried to concentrate on the book - not that he found _The Midwife’s Apprentice_ interesting by means, he had to read it for school - but his stupid friends who thought he couldn’t hear them wouldn’t shut up. Charlie, Jo, and Chuck were busy trying to guess who would have whose name on their wrist. So far they had made bets on Charlie having Gilda, Jo having Ash, and Chuck having Becky. They had also managed to get on his last nerve.

He didn’t even understand how they weren't getting in trouble. They were in the fucking library. There was no way you could have a loud enough conversation so he could hear them _from the other side of a bookshelf_ and not get caught. Dean could go over there to tell them to shut up, but that would probably end with _him_ getting detention. This school sucked.

He groaned and buried deeper into the book, determined to finish the page. He almost got through two more paragraphs when a name caught his attention.

“So what about Cas?” It sounded like Chuck was the one who proposed the question.

“Well Cas is gay,” Jo stated, “so it has to be a guy.”

“It’s obvious,” piped up Charlie. “Dean.”

The book slipped from his hands and slammed into the floor. What did she just say?

“Charlie, Dean’s straight.” Jo said.

“He says, but have you ever seen how he looks at Cas. I wish Gilda would look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Jo asked.

“Like he wants to eat his face for a very long time.”

He let out an indignant squawk.

“Gross,” Chuck cringed. “I don’t want to think about him with Cas. Besides, he likes Lisa. Has for ages.”

“And Cassie,” added Jo. “Didn't he try to make out with here last month?”

“And failed miserably. She slapped him for getting near her.” Dean could hear the smugness in her voice. The entire following week Charlie had chastised him for trying to get with her.

“That’s just the true love coming through,” Jo smirked.

“Anyway,” Chuck interrupted, “I thought this was about Cas liking Dean?”

There was a pause, and he could practically see Charlie smile at whatever twisted fantasy she was imagining. “I don’t think Cas talks to anyone but Dean or people he’s cleared. He’ll do anything Dean asks. Ever. Even when it hurts him. Remember when he told Cas to stand up to Raphael and he got punched in the face?” The other two murmured in agreement. “He follows Dean around, will defend him to the grave. Hell, I think Cas’s entire personality is based off of Dean’s interest half the time. He’s in love.”

Dean was frozen with shock. Charlie had to be wrong. Cas didn’t love him. At least in nothing more than a friends/brotherly type of way. Right? She made a tough case, but the dude was his best friend, and best friends did stuff like that. Personalities mold together, they defend each other, make each other do stupid things, stick close to each other. Right?

“What are you hiding for?”

Dean jumped at the voice behind him. Familiar enough. He turned to Cas and glared at him, attempted to calm his rapidly beating heart. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Cas ignored him. “What are you crouching on the ground for? Are you playing hide go seek? Can I play?” Cas’s already enormous eyes grew in excitement; Dean rolled his.

“Cas, we’re in middle school. You don’t play hide and go seek any more,” he whispered. He saw the light dim from his friend’s eyes, but he ignored it. Kid has to learn. “Jo, Chuck, and Charlie are betting on who people are gonna get on their wrists.”

“That sounds interesting,” Cas remarked. Of course the dork would find it interesting. “Who are they discussing?”

It was of course just then Chuck’s voice carried over to them. “So for Dean, I put five on Lisa, Jo puts five on Cassie, and Charlie on Cas.”

Dean winced at Chuck’s words. He dared a peek at Cas, who was bright red and refusing to look Dean in the eye. God, this was the most embarrassing day of his life. “Forget them, buddy,” he offered. “They’re just being assholes.”

Cas nodded, but he still wouldn’t look Dean in the eye, even as he got up. “I’ll just meet you outside,” he muttered as he scurried away. And if Dean’s eyes lingered on Cas as he left, or took close notice of how well his jeans hugged his body, then Dean blatantly denied it.

Because he was not in love with Cas, and Cas was not in love with him.

\----------

_2003 (Age 13/12)_

The words on the page were swirled together, making it impossible to read. Cas was sure he was glaring at the final exam at this point. Usually he was good at taking test, but the new mark on his right wrist was flaring up every time he moved it, making writing experience. It had long ago become too distracting to read.

Cas refused to deal with it, choosing to instead ignore the stupid thing for the remainder of his life. Someone had told him that after enough contact with his soul mate the burning sensation would disappear. He was relieved and terrified by that idea.

From the seat next to him came a loud and elongated sigh of frustration. He glanced over at Dean, who had leaned all the way back and was busy pouring over the test. He turned to Cas, fear and hopelessness scrawled across his face. Dean mouthed "What is this shit? Help!"

Cas's wrist flared again, and he desperately wanted to shout back to him "I don't know and it's all your fault," but he settled with a shrug and returned to his work. He wanted to hate Dean, because it was his fault his wrist started to burn when the boy got close to him and why he couldn’t concentrate on the test. He glared at the half-written name etched on his skin, partly concealed by his long sleeve. And although only the first two letters were clearly visible, he already knew the name:

_Dean_

He wanted to cut the name out of his wrist. He was stupid enough to fall in love with his best friend. Not just fall in love - be so emotionally invested that Dean Winchester was his soul mate. Dean was straight, and Cas was nothing more than his friend. Dean would never see his name on his wrist, never look at Castiel with the adoration bonded pairs have, never love him back.

And the worst part? There was a small part of Cas that still believed true love would conquer all, like in the kid’s books. That Dean would wake up one morning and magically have his name and love him. Although it was a minuscule piece of him, the dream festered and grew into a malignant desire that spread throughout him, eating him alive. Cas was ruined.

“Alright, pencils down.”

He looked up and focused on the large clock that hung above the center of the white board. The bell was about the ring. Cas didn’t need to see his paper to know only half of the questions had even acceptable answers, let alone less than that being right. Damn it. At least his ‘A’ in the class would counteract his failed final. He begrudgingly passed up his paper and dropped his head in his hands as the last bell of the day rung. The school year was over.

Students rushed by him, only concerned with escaping the dreary middle school halls and classrooms. He didn’t feel like moving yet; he wasn’t sure he could.

He felt Dean approach him before he looked up to see him. His wrist was on fire. “Come on, Cas, let’s get outta here.” He reluctantly rose and grabbed his ratty backpack in response. Dean grinned and flung himself out the door, Cas trudged slowly behind. Dean swiveled around and studied his downcast demeanor.

“Why are you so upset? It’s summer!” He ruffled Cas’s hair and flashed him a wide smile.

“I’m just worried I failed,” he mumbled. Well, at least it wasn’t a complete lie.

“Dude, you have such a high grade I don’t think it’s possible for you to fail,” he grinned. “I’m sure you did fine, and even if you didn’t, it’s just middle school history. It doesn't mean anything.”

“But I don’t want to make a habit of failing,” Cas groaned. “That will stick with me into high school and then I’ll get 'D's and won’t get accepted into a good school and be a failure at life.” Dean just responded by doubling over with laughter, much to his great annoyance. Dean didn’t have to be studious, but he could at the very least not find his fears hysterical. Even if those fears really weren't the main problem. A small part knew his death-stares were not caused by the laughter, but by the soul mate mark, but he ignored that rational part of his brain.

Dean clamped a hand on Cas’s shoulder in an attempt of gaining some stability as he recovered from his fit. Cas’s wrist was on fire. He pushed him away and walked out the door. Dean bounded after him, calling out apologies. “Sorry, man, I didn’t mean anything offensive. Cas just talk to me.”

He turned around to see that Dean had sobered enough to not be smiling and be taking him seriously. The golden rays of afternoon light reflected against his skin, highlighting every freckle. His eyes glittered in the light. Yep, he was too far gone.

“It’s okay,” he muttered. “I’m just tired. Sorry,” he added with the best apologetic expression he could muster.

He was sure it was terrible, because Dean looked the opposite of convinced by his words, but thankfully said nothing. “Well, come on, Sammy’s at the ice cream place, and I’m feeling like a sundae. Race you down to the shop?”

Cas gave a small smile and sprinted by Dean. “You’re on Winchester,” he called back. Dean took off right behind him. The sun beat down on back and face. His feet pounded against the pavement. With the backpack he felt like he was hauling rocks, but still kept running. Cas was still angry, but maybe things would get better. Maybe he could learn to ignore his wrist, and they could continue on like normal. A small voice tempted him again with the hope of Dean returning the mark. He pushed it away. It was better if he didn’t waste wishes on lost causes.

\----------

_2004 (Age 14/13)_

Dean double checked again that his door was locked. He needed absolute privacy. The sweltering summer heat was suffocating in his room, and when it mixed with the tension of the moment, he could hardly breathe.

He sat on the edge of his bed, studying his leather bound wrist.

It had begun to appear in spring, when he and Lisa were still going out. Both marks began to show within the same week. Lisa had told him it was fate and he went with it. But it had soon become apparent that Dean’s name, though as of yet was unreadable, had more than four letters, and the first clear letter on Lisa’s wrist was not a D but an M. They had both decide that it was better to end things then rather than let a pointless relationship continue, and they had separated on good terms.

It was after that Sam had made a bet with him that he could avoid looking at the mark for three months, which he quickly accepted. Dean had found one of his Dad’s worn letter bracelets and wrapped it around his wrist, determined to not look at the mark until the name was fully formed. Besides, it wasn't worth it to play a guessing game for months as it slowly took shape. Yep, better to just see it all at once.

At least that had been his theory, but as the weeks had worn on Dean had found himself staring at his wrist more and more. He itched to rip the leather off and see the progress of the mark. Finally know who his soul mate was. But he somehow had enough self-control to restrain himself. He didn't want to lose the bet. And he had easily won it.

The thing was, that was weeks ago. He could have taken off the bracelet at any time, but hadn't. He had told himself he was rubbing his self-control in Sammy's face; that he was just being sure the mark was fully formed. But a voice in his head taunted him, telling him that it was fear that drove his reluctance. Fear of who his soul mate would be.

Questions had been floating around him for weeks. What if he don’t know who she was? What if he did? What if the name was something super common like Hannah or Rachel or Emily? What if she didn’t love him back?

The questions plagued him day in and day out. He couldn’t think half the time. But in its own way, the eternal questioning of the unknown was easier to handle than discovering the truth.

But he had finally manned up and given in. Alone. Locked in his room. In an empty house. On an early august afternoon. Almost two months after he said he would look.

Goddammit, it was now or never. Dean breathed out as his eyes closed. He carefully slid the bracelet off his arm, turning his wrist up towards his face. His eyes fluttered open.

_Castiel_

He screamed. Loud and high pitched and not his proudest moment, but fuck that because _what the fuck_? He gripped his wrist, his eyes poring over the letters that spelled out his best friend. His short, shallow breaths puffed against to the raised skin. There had to be some mistake, because Cas was his best friend and Dean was not gay. Lisa Braden could prove that.

His mind whirled with the weight of the mark. How could this happen? He was definitely not in love with Cas. But that stupid voice came back and brought with it memories of lingering glances and fuzzy feelings. Cas was the only person he truly felt comfortable around, and he could hardly imagine not being with him, and he would do anything for the dork, just to see him give a wide smile and watch his azure eyes sparkle...

Oh no.

_Oh no._

He shoved the heel of his palms into his forehead. He was an idiot.

He didn’t even know if Cas had his mark yet. The boy had never shown him, but considering he started sounding like he smoked a pack a day back in seventh grade it was a safe bet he did. Cas had to have his name, right?

The voice supplied an answer. Of course not. The boy was gay, but he never showed any interest in Dean. Why would he? Cas deserved a guy who was smart and kind and didn’t make him do stupid things for laughs and wasn’t an asshole to everybody. He deserved better. Better than what Dean had to offer. He was probably at home now, admiring the Aaron or Jimmy or Steve on his wrist. He flashes a glance out his window towards Cas’s house, but he couldn’t see him.

Cas couldn’t know. He would hate him, or avoid him at all costs at the very least. Dean fumbled with the bracelet and shoved it back on his wrist. If he couldn’t see it, it didn’t exist. Cas didn’t have to know, and Dean didn’t have to be in love with Cas. They could stay best friends. Everything would be fine. Everything would be fine.

\----------

_2006 (Age 16)_

“I am so going to kick your ass, bitch!”

Dean laughed hysterically as Charlie glowered at him. Her cart was slowly being hauled up out of the cliff Dean had pushed her in. Cas zoomed by her as vehicle touched ground. “Oh, come on,” she groaned.

The race quickly ended after that, with Dean in first, Cas in second, and Charlie in third. Dean raised his hands in victory, sending a shit-eating grin Charlie’s way. She huffed in annoyance. “You know,” she threw down her controller, “I’m done with Mario Kart. Let’s watch a movie.”

“You’re just mad that you lost,” Dean retorted.

“So?” She challenged with a raise of an eyebrow.

Dean smirked. “Fine,” he conceded. “But we’re watching Episode Four. You okay with that, Cas?” Dean turned to him.

“Sure, whatever,” he shrugged.

Charlie leaped off the couch. “Well we can’t watch Star Wars without popcorn. Get it started while I make us some.”

Dean was about to make some snarky comment, but Cas cut him off with an “Alright.” Charlie walked off into the kitchen, leaving the boys alone. Dean moved to pop in the disk. Cas shifted on the couch, pulling at the sleeve of his trench coat. He had taken to only wearing long sleeves in the past years, even on the hottest of days. When his mom had given him given him his dad’s old trench coat, he had quickly donned the jacket that covered his wrists perfectly.

Some how he had managed to keep the name hidden from Dean for years. Not that the other was really complaining. His friend hadn’t shown him his mark either. After breaking up with Lisa he had worn the bracelet every day, and Cas was certain he never took it off. He often wondered who Dean was supposed to be bonded with. It was probably some girl they didn’t know. Cas was plagued by visions of Dean going off to college and running into some pretty girl who shared his mark. The two would live happily ever after and Cas would die alone and bitter on the other side of the country, forgotten by his best friend.

“Are you okay?” He turned to see Dean watching him, concern written across his face. He hadn't even realized Dean had come back to sit on the couch, and he couldn’t help but notice how close the two really were. Cas was suddenly aware of how tense his facial muscles were and how he had been scowling. Great.

He rubbed his temples in an attempt to relax them. “I’m fine. Just a headache,” he lied.

“Sorry dude,” he offered as he turned back to the screen. He pressed a button on the remote and the familiar theme of Star Wars blasted through the room. Not that sorry about the headache, Cas noted.

Charlie sauntered back in with a ginormous bowl of popcorn cradled in her hands. She plopped down and shoved a handful in her mouth.

“Very ladylike,” Dean snorted.

“You would know,” she shot back, shoving the bowl over Cas to Dean, effectively spilling some into his lap.

After that the trio lapsed into silence, engrossed in their favorite movie. Cas tried to relax, but he couldn’t when he could feel Dean’s shoulder was touching his or hear his breath or know exactly how close they were. It was exhausting.

He glanced over at Charlie; her eyes were locked on the screen and he gave a sigh of relief. Since middle school she had constantly joked how he and Dean would be soul mates. At first it was just annoying and embarrassing, but after he got the name on his wrist it became downright painful. Cas was certain she didn’t know Dean really was his soul mate, but that didn’t stop her from bugging him about the mark. It was a rare week she didn’t bring it up to him. He loved Charlie like a sister, but he prayed she would eventually grow tired of it. He couldn’t really ask her to stop - admitting how much it really did bother him would be too obvious - and showing her the name in a form of guilt trip was definitely out. So stony acceptance had been his only option.

They got through a good amount of the movie - the Millennium Falcon was just leaving Mos Espy - when the trouble began. The obnoxious ringtone of Charlie’s cell phone sounded over the movie.

“Would you turn that thing off? Cas and I trying to watch a movie,” Dean taunted.

“Like you haven’t seen it fifty times before,” she retorted. Charlie lunged for the phone, smiled as she read the message, and furiously began typing out a response.

“Dorothy?” Cas asked. She simple hummed an affirmative and continued texting. Dean rolled his eyes and returned to the movie. She and Dorothy we’re practically inseparable once they were bonded. Charlie had met her soul mate the previous year when she moved to Lawrence, and it had been love at first sight. Cas was actually surprised Charlie hadn't brought Dorothy with her.

“How are you two doing,” he asked. Dean groaned and shifted beside him, muttering something about how it was impossible to watch anything with them. Cas rolled his eyes and kept his focus on Charlie, who was smiling widely at him.

“We’re doing great,” she beamed. “Dorothy just texted that her parents said it was okay for me to join them up at their cabin for winter break.”

“Remember to practice safe sex,” Cas heard Dean joke behind him.

“Stop being such an asshole,” he chided.

Cas expected Charlie to yell at him, but her expression was blank. “So Dean, how are you and Cas doing?” she asked. “Pretty well, I see.”

Cas squinted in confusion. Even if she wanted them to be together she knew they weren't. But Cas then noticed the weight of Dean’s arm across his shoulder, and how he was leaning against his friend. The two broke away from each other sheepishly as Charlie smirked at them. Cas knew his face was bright red.

“I’m gonna go use the bathroom,” Dean coughed. He hastily removed himself from the couch and made his way to the bathroom. Cas focused all his attention on the movie in front of him.

“Cas,” Charlie called. He refused to look at her. “Do you want to tell me something?”

“No, I don’t,” he answered, eyes glued to the screen.

“Cas...”

“Dean and I are not dating. We are not soul mates.” The words stung in his mouth. His gut twisted in knots. The name had long ago stopped heating up in Dean’s presence, but his skin suddenly felt warm and tingly. He hated it. “Just check Dean’s wrist. My name’s not there.

“Why can’t I check yours?”

Cas didn’t answer. He couldn’t. She had to know by now. No point in denying or furthering any discussion. Dean came back and sat back down, but noticeably distanced from Cas. Charlie and Dean didn’t make any more comments, and the three finished the movie in silence.

\----------

_2008 (Age 18/17)_

“I don’t know where to go!”

Dean glanced over to where his best friend was at his desk, frantically sifting through papers and packets. Dean, meanwhile, was lounging on Cas’s bed, playing toss with one of his friend’s crumpled pieces of paper.

“BU is a really nice school, but Carnegie Mellon is giving me more money, but I like NYU’s campus the best, but that is the most expensive school. And I do like Boston’s program the best, but I really like Carnegie, too. What do you think Dean?”

He threw the ball in the air. “Pick whatever one you like best,” he offered.

“You are no help,” Cas stated. Dean heard some more shuffling and sighing coming from the other side of the room. Ever since Cas had sent out his applications he’d been a mess. He was getting sick more and more often, missing school, Dean had to help him through a panic attack at the beginning of the semester. There were many late nights Cas had come over to vent worries to Dean. He would talk for hours and Dean would listen to every minute of it. Not that he minded all that much. It was the least he owed him. Dean just wanted Cas to be happy, and the stupid college process was sure getting in the way of that.

Dean had hoped getting acceptance letters would ease the stress, but instead they brought a new kind to the table. The May 1st deadline was fast approaching and Cas still couldn’t decide where to go. Dean was at a loss of how to help, so he silently sat back to watch the chaos ensue. That’s how helpful of a friend he was.

Dean didn’t have the same stress as Cas. When they applied he still was unsure about college; he was certain he wasn’t going to get in anywhere. But for Cas he had applied to schools in all the cities his best friend had: Pittsburgh, New York, Boston, San Francisco. And to appease his mom KU, and Cas had even applied there for him. But he knew he barely stood a chance. His grades weren't the best from years of slacking off and just being bad at test taking, and his SAT score was average at best. Somehow he had been accepted to the University of Massachusetts, Boston and the University of Kansas, but he had already decided he couldn’t be anywhere near Cas. It would only hurt too much.

Cas’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Where are you going? If you go to Boston I’ll go with you.”

Dean felt a lump rise in his throat. He had to tell him eventually. “I’m not going to college,” he mumbled.

The paper’s stopped shuffling. “What?” There wasn’t anger in his voice. It was disbelief.

He sat up to meet his best friend’s gaze. “I said I’m not going to college, Cas.”

Cas stared at him. For minutes, for hours. His gaze held Dean’s, unwavering and constant. “If this is about you thinking you’re not good enough for college-”

“No, Cas, that’s not it,” he grunted.

“Then what?” he questioned. Dean folded himself inward, determined not to meet Cas’s eye. He studied the tiny carpet stains that somehow appeared years ago. He could still feel Cas’s piercing gaze locked on him. “Dean we always planned on doing college together,” he continued. “You and me living in some small apartment together near school.”

“Until what? You find your soul mate and leave?” Dean glared up at him. Cas turned away and blushed. “Or I do,” he added, not wanting Cas to get any ideas. He couldn’t know. “Besides, I already have a plan.” He picked at a piece of fuzz on his flannel. With it he might find the strength to tell Cas the truth. He took a steadying breath. “I enrolled in the army.”

Cas froze. It was as if he had become stone. For a moment even his bright blue eyes dimmed to a grayer color. Dean was worried he shocked him to death. But as soon as he came into the state he shocked out of it, and a fire took his eyes. “No,” he order.

“ _No_?” he sputtered.

“I’m not going to let you kill yourself in a stupid war.”

“Cas-”

“Shut up!” Cas was fuming, jaw clenched, hands bunched into fists. If they were any closer Dean was sure Cas would punch him. “You are too important to your family, your friends, and me to have you sign yourself away to a death sentence.”

“Cas-”

“How could you do that to me?” Cas demanded.

“Would you shut the fuck up so I can talk?” Dean shouted. Cas snapped his jaw shut with an audible click. He was still glowering at him, demeanor cold and aloof. Dean ran his hands through his hair and tried to take a breath. “For one, going to war doesn't mean I will automatically die. There’s a good chance I won’t.”

“There’s a good chance you will,” Cas interrupted.

“Anyways,” he said through gritted teeth, “I’m not doing this to kill myself.” No, he was doing it so he could be far away from Cas. The boy could go to college and meet his soul mate and have the life he deserved. He wouldn’t be bothered by Dean or tied down to him. Cas would forget about him and move on. And Dean couldn’t bear to watch that happen. He would force himself to let go of Cas. He loved him. He had come to terms with it. Their relationship wasn’t healthy for Cas, and it wasn’t healthy to torture himself every day.

Of course he couldn’t tell Cas any of this, so his secondary reasons became his main drive. “I want to help people, and prove to myself I can be brave. And honestly get myself together. I might be able to do that in the army. And I can get money from them to help pay for school when I’m out. Sammy’s gonna need most of it if he wants to go to Stanford to be a lawyer. My mom’s accepted it. Sammy has. So why can’t you?”

“Because I care about you,” the other breathed, almost too soft to hear.

The two stood motionless, staring at the other. All Dean could see from Cas was utter fear and devotion, tears being forced back. It was heartbreaking. Dean slowly approached his friend and wrapped his arms around him. Cas automatically leaned into the touch; his limbs and breath were shaking. Dean could feel his own breath catching in his throat. Cas was right. He could get hurt, he could die, and he was terrified. He brought one arm up to stroke Cas’s head. For a moment, he pretended that none of this was happening, that he and Cas were a bonded pair and were going to be together. And for that one moment he felt wonderful.

“Promise me you’ll be okay,” Cas murmured.

Dean just held him tighter and buried his face in Cas’s neck.

“I promise.”

\----------

_2009 (Age 19/18)_

Fire burned all around him. Smoke filled his eyes. Where was he? Had to run. Had to get out. Had to find Dean. Where was Dean? Legs moving, heart pounding, eyes searching for the green in the red. ‘Cas!’ The voice was from behind him. He turned. Dean. In singed uniform. Blood everywhere. Had to run to Dean. Had to help Dean. But every step forward brought them farther apart. ‘Dean!’ Lighting struck. Thunder cracked. Red was spreading out of Dean’s chest. Why was it growing? Why was there so much? Cas tried to move. The fire was gripping his legs. He was stuck. ‘Dean!’ The body was crumpling to the ground. The fire around Dean grew. It towered above Cas. He could smell the burning flesh. ‘Dean!’

Cas awoke with a start, his body dripping with sweat. He couldn’t breathe. He laid in bed for a moment, just until his body calmed down. It was just a dream.

But it wasn’t just a dream. He was having nightmares focused on Dean at least three times a week, always waking in a cold sweat, hyperventilating. After every one he would lay in bed, hoping to drift back into sleep, but never achieving it. Some nights he would stare at the cracked ceiling until day break. But tonight he couldn’t. Cas pushed himself off the mattress, careful not to disturb his bed mate, and threw on a pair of underwear. He padded over to his desk and plopped down on his office chair. He absentmindedly searched for paper and pen. His movements were conditioned to be automatic. He scrutinized the page, and without thinking, only feeling wrote.

_Hello Dean,_

_I know I’ve been writing you a lot, but I guess I have to now. I suppose I just need the release. It seems to be the only way to get my feelings out. I apologize for all the times I have dumped, I am dumping, and I will dump my problems on to you. You don’t deserve them, but, then again, no one really deserves anything._

_I had another nightmare tonight. We were burning and you were shot and I couldn’t get to you in time. I know you promised you would be okay, but my subconscious doesn't believe you. I wish you would write me back. That way I could be sure you’re alive. I know Mary would have called me if you died or were taken prisoner, but I can’t help but worry._

A hand gently rested on his shoulder. He turned to see Meg standing behind him. She was beautiful in the moonlight: her naked skin gleamed in ethereal contrast with her raven hair. She place her other hand on his shoulder and slowly rubbed circles into his skin.

“Come back to bed,” she murmured. “Sleep. Even you need it.”

“I can’t,” he sighed.

She peered over his shoulder at the paper. “Writing to Dean again?”

Meg knew about Dean, how he was Cas’s best friend and the man he loved, how he didn't return the feeling, how he was off fighting in the war. Meg understood. She had found the man on her wrist, Crowley, when she was still in high school. He had convinced her to run away with him, but the drunk had abandoned her with only the money in her pockets. She had sworn off the entire system on soul mate marks. That’s why they attracted each other: two souls heart broken and bondless.

They had been sleeping together since the end of his first semester. People hated him for it, shunned from most of the others at school. Hook ups, those were okay, but not real relationships. Were he and Meg even in a real relationship? They lived together and slept together and fucked each other, but everything they did was in the purely physical sense. There was no emotion, no feeling, no love.

He tried, he really did try to be in love with Meg. He wanted there to be something. So he let her come into his life, take every piece of him, but it wasn’t ever enough.

He glanced down at the page. Cas had never once told Dean of Meg. It never felt right to talk about her. It seemed dirty and dishonest, like betrayal. Or cheating. In a way it was.

Left without an answer, Meg walked back to bed. Cas sighed. He needed something more. He needed Dean. It wasn’t fair to Meg to keep going like this. He promised himself he would break it off soon, before his birthday in a few weeks. Maybe give himself until Halloween.

He scanned the night sky visible through their apartment’s minuscule window. Even in the city a few stars could be seen.

_It’s strange. I look up at the night sky, but sometimes it seems so different. Sometimes the stars don’t twinkle in gleaming whites, but all colors of the rainbow. They appear to like green the best, one that’s bright like summer grass or apples. But they will switch to gold and red and purple as well. Other times I think about them as freckles dotting the sky as if it were a giant face. We kind of talked about that in class. We were discussing the Greek titan Uranus, who stretched above the world creating the sky. Obviously the Greeks had a different word for asshole. If you were there you would have spent the entire class making jokes about the name, and I would have tried to quiet you the entire time. It was boring. I miss you._

_I went to Gabriel’s wedding a few weeks ago. I still can’t believe Gabe is a married man, and too someone as out of his league as Kali. You remember her? She visited once our senior year. It boggles Anna’s and my mind. Anna had to leave Hannah at home. A three year old wouldn’t have done well at a wedding. She was huge; I feel like she might be lying when she said she was only six months pregnant. Gabe and I made bets: I say she’ll have twins, he’s going for triplets. I pray I won’t lose my twenty bucks. I need every cent I can get._

_When you’re done with this tour you should apply for school up here. I still want you as a roommate, and I haven’t bonded, and I don’t think you have either. At least I hope not._

Cas paused, read over the last few lines he wrote, and crossed out the last sentence. Dean didn’t need to know that.

_It would be hard to bond at a military base, but what do I know? Maybe you found a beautiful girl. If so, you should write me back to tell me so. If not, still write me back. I want to hear from you._

_I can’t think of much more to say. So I guess I’ll just close up this letter now. Remember your promise. I’m counting on you keeping it._

_Cas_

He set down the pen and carefully folded the paper. Cas glanced over at the clock; it read 4:13. He would send the letter in the morning. He debated going back to bed with Meg, but what was the point? He wouldn’t fall asleep anyway. He sat back in his chair and watched the city and night sky through the window. He would stay by it until morning.

\----------

_2010 (Age 20)_

It had been over fifteen minutes since the last bomb fell near the camp. The dust was finally settled. Everything had a layer of light brown, but that wasn’t anything new. Dean wanted to assume the air raid was finished, but you couldn’t be sure.

“You okay there, brother?” The hulking soldier, Benny, muttered next to him. Both were crouched behind a low crumbling wall outside of camp. Their scouting mission hadn’t turned out as they had hoped. Luckily they were relatively unarmed.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Just a few scratches. Not much.”

It would take both of them about twenty minutes of running with little or no cover to get back. He surveyed the sky. He didn’t see any planes or drones, but he couldn’t be sure.

“When do you think it’s safe to head back?” he asked.

Benny shrugged and returned to scouting the landscape. Dean wiped the sweat from his brow. It was early fall and sweltering. The dirt on his mixed with his sweat to coat his skin in a tan slug. How did anyone survive out here? Head been in Afghanistan for two years now and still couldn’t stand it.

“We’re gonna die out here,” he breathed.

“Convenient,” muttered Benny. Dean smirked at the reference.

Benny was his best man and closest friend here. The soft spoken Louisiana boy was equal parts humorous and terrifying when he wanted to be and made for a fantastic ally. They had quickly banded together.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Benny absent mindedly stroking his wrist. His thumb caressed the name Andrea scrawled into his skin. Benny had told him once about his soul mate. They were high school sweethearts, and he had left her in Louisiana when he went off to Afghanistan. He wanted to go home for her, but the honor and order of battle had called to him. He was stuck in between, but the two made it work when he came back from tours.

Dean had never told him about Cas. Benny had asked once about the name on his wrist and raised eyebrows at all the letters he had gotten from the boy, but they never had a real talk about him. Part of Dean wanted to vent to someone, but he wasn’t sure he could.

Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out the dusty and torn piece of paper. Cas’s lean and slanted handwriting was smudged from how many times he’d read the letter. The most recent one didn’t have any news on it, just random and scattered thoughts Cas marked down. They were becoming more and more like that, sometimes unintelligible, probably written late at night without much hesitation. Dean would spend hours poring over the words, trying to decode his friend’s meaning.

Dean’s gaze flicked over to the name on his wrist. The bracelet had been removed months ago. Every now and again Cas would write something odd - ‘The leaves is never the right shade of your eyes’ or ‘your laugh is much better than whatever music is popular right now’ or ‘the other day I remembered that time you told me ghosts lived in my house and afterwards I felt empty and I missed you’ - and Dean could almost believe that Cas had his name on his wrist. But it was impossible.

Cas wouldn’t hid how scared he was for Dean or upset that he was gone. He often wrote on Dean’s lack of response. But he could write back. It would no longer be a passive recognition of care. He might let something slip or hurt Cas. Or worse, get so involved he would want to leave to find him, believing it wouldn’t be hurt too much to watch the love of your life fall for someone else right in front of your eyes. He could pretend he could, but Dean knew that would break him.

“What’s wrong?” Benny’s gruff voice broke his thoughts. Why was he breathing so hard? He glanced down at the paper. He was gripping in his fists, crumpling the edges. A dark, wet circle was smudging ‘I miss you.’

Dean’s eyes stung from the dirt mixing with the tears, only causing more of them. He wiped his eyes and shook his head. “Nothing, I’m fine,” he responded.

“Is Cas okay?”

“Yeah, Benny, he’s fine.”

Benny clamped a massive hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’ll make it out of here and back to his arms.”

Dean tried to laugh, but it came out hollow and was mixed with a cough. “Yeah, okay,” he grunted.

He stared straight out into the desert, determined to not meet Benny’s gaze. His friend, however, leaned over to try to see his eyes. “What?” he questioned.

Dean exhaled through his nostrils. “Cas doesn't want me,” he said dryly.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Skepticism was etched across his face.

Dean told him everything. Growing up together, getting the mark, deciding to get away from Cas to help him. It hurt to talk about it, but at the same time a great weight was lifted off his chest. The choking asthma of his sadness and regret was gone. It felt like he could finally breathe.

When he finished he looked to Benny, expecting to see sympathy or something. But the man just snorted.

“What?” he asked.

Benny actually did laugh, loud and brassy. Dean was sure he was mocking him for something. “Brother, this boy has sent you at least forty letters confessing his deepest thoughts and fears. If that’s not true love, hell, I don’t know what is.”

Dean was about to retort, when he noticed a black dot in the sky past Benny’s head. “Drone at one o’clock,” Benny spun around to scan the sky. He pulled out his radio and relayed the message back to camp. Dean stuffed the note into his pocket has he grabbed his pack and crouched down. He rolled against the wall in attempt to not be seen. He felt Benny drop next to him. Silence filled the air. Then came the familiar, deafening rush of plane zooming by. Thunder from an explosion rocked the ground. The wall shook and small fragments of the stone bounced off his back. Today was going to be a long day.

\----------

_2011 (Age 21)_

The porcelain toilet had long ago become stopped feeling cool on his skin. His legs tingled. At this point most of the feeling in his thighs had left. He stared at the stark contrast of crimson blood on pale skin. In a way it was beautiful.

The razor blade between in fingers gleamed in the fluorescent bathroom lighting. Cas held it up to inspect it. A layer of red covered the edge of the blade. His gaze traveled down his arm, to where a dozen other scars in various states of healing lined up in a neat row. They circled Dean’s name, but never touched it. Never once was that skin broken.

Cas wanted too. He wanted to tear out the ridiculous mark, slash it until he couldn’t read whose name was printed on his skin. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t pierce that skin. And it hurt, because it was for Dean he would cut himself. Because he was alone and empty without him, and the only way to _feel_ was to drag the blade against his skin.

He brought the razor down to his thigh and made one more cut. He stifled a groan as the sharp pain spread across his body. Blood seeped out of wound, flowing down the curve of his leg. He placed the blade down and admired his work. Carved into his skin were the letters D-E-A-N, to match the ones on his wrist.

Cas wiped up the trickling blood with some toilet paper and tossed the crumpled ball into the trash. He gingerly pulled up his jeans. Water from the faucet flowed over his blood-stained hands, and Cas was mesmerized by the red draining away.

He padded out of his bathroom into his makeshift kitchen. It was only a fridge, microwave, and shelf he called a pantry shoved into the corner of his one room apartment. A rickety table with a mismatching chair and hardly used bed were his only companions.

He glanced at the calendar hanging on the wall. December 31st. New Years Eve. A time to make goals to better oneself in the coming year that no one truly intended to keep. It was also an acceptable time to get drunk, and Cas was not on to pass up on that opportunity. He grabbed a beer bottle from the fridge and brought it to his lips. The cold, bitter liquid burned his throat on the way down. But it was something to take off the edge.

How did he come to this? Four years ago. He was a happy honor student. Now he had to drag himself out of bed and talk himself into even showing up to class. ‘Dean would want me too’ had become his mantra. The boy was simultaneously killing him keeping him alive. It was horrid.

“My goals for the year,” he mused to himself. “One: to actually finish college. Two: to call mom and Gabe and Anna sometime. Three: to stop cutting.” He pored over his wounds and laughed, short and hollow. As if that was going to happen. “Four: to forget you Dean.” Maybe if he said it he would. He shook his head. It had long ago become impossible. He debated writing Dean another letter, but decided to wait until tomorrow.

“Happy New Years,” he mumbled. Cas was about to take a sip from his beer when the phone rang. Of course. He leaned over to pick up the receiver. “Hello,” he sighed.

“Is this Mr. Novak?” the person on the other end of the line asked. The voice was rough and sharp, and had an air of urgency.

“Yes.” Cas took another sip.

“This is Sergeant Michael Cain. I am calling to inform you on the state of Private First Class Winchester.”

Cas’s breath caught in his throat. “Is Dean alright.”

“Winchester was shot a week ago.” Cas couldn’t move. The phone began to tremble in his hands. The beer bottle was all but forgotten. His mouth hung open, but he couldn’t form any words. “He was in a squadron defending a small town in the Badghis Province. Enemy forces entered the city and attacked. Private Winchester was shot in the sternum in the fire. He was the only one injured.”

Cas couldn’t breathe. Dean was dead. Dean was dead on the other side of the world. He broke his promise. Cas would never see him again.

“He’s alive,” the sergeant finally reported. He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “We was taken to intensive care. The bullet was removed. He’s lucky. Another two inches to his left and he would have been a goner.”

Cas legs gave out and he collapsed into the chair. He didn’t know what to think. “He woke up a few hours ago,” the man continued. “We informed him that as soon as he is well enough to travel he will be given an honorable discharge and sent back to the United States.”

He would get to see Dean again. Dean would come back to him. Cas couldn’t help the corners of mouth rising at the thought. But something didn’t set right with him.

“Thank you for calling. But I thought policy would only inform family members.”

The man at the other end of the line paused for a moment. “You are _Castiel_ Novak, spelled c-a-s-t-i-e-l, correct?”

“Yes,” he slowly responded. Where was he going with this?

“Just checking,” Sergeant Cain stated. “He having your name on his wrist is cause enough. The military recognizes soul mates, married or not, as part of the family.”

The phone fell from his hands and crashed onto floor with a booming thud. Soul mate. Dean’s soul mate. This whole time they had been paired and Dean never told him. Over eight years of longing and loneliness because neither one of them had the guts to tell the other.

He scrambled for the dropped phone and pressed it to his ear. Cain was still talking. “... luckily he had the letters with your address so we could find your phone number.”

“When do you think he will be returning to Kansas?” Cas interrupted.

“Maybe a few weeks. He’s recovering, but presently is very weak.”

Cas exhaled to try to steady his voice. “Thank you, again, for the call. It will be good to see Dean.”

“Have a nice night.” The line clicked and went dead. Cas slowly brought the phone away from his ear. The corners of his mouth were tight and his vision blurred. Something was stuck in his throat. He tried to push it out, but all that came was a sob. Tears started rushing down his cheeks and they wouldn't stop coming.  He gripped the phone and threw it across the room. It smacked the wall, but he couldn’t tell if it was broken. It didn’t matter; it didn’t help. Cas wailed. He slammed. He was loud and ugly and utterly _wrecked_.

All this time he could have been happy. Why hadn't Dean told him? He had to have known how much he adored him. Did Dean not love him? Did he hate him? Was he not good enough? Should Cas even go to find him? Did Dean deserve him?

Even after the tears stopped Cas didn’t move. The cheers of the New Year came and went, but he was frozen in time, his own fixed point. He didn’t know when he eventually moved, but it slow and painful. He made his way to the laptop laying on his bed. The bright blue light of his screen illuminated the dark room. Cas navigated his way to the American Airlines website and searched for the first ticket to Lawrence he could get. He was going home.

\---------

_2012 (Age 22/21)_

Dean still was getting used to walking. He had been bedridden for weeks because of his damn bullet wound, and even though he insisted on getting up no one would let him. He had to ‘take it slow.’ The moment he did get up, however, he realized just how right they were. His torso was on fire. Every time he moved it bolts of pain shot through his body. His birthday had been miserable, between lying in bed all day and attempt to move around the room without doubling over. But he had been resilient, and now, in the beginning of February, he was finally coming home.

Although the trip back was horrifying, getting flown out of Afghanistan to Jerusalem, Jerusalem to London, London to Chicago, and Chicago to Lawrence. Two days of being trapped in a cramped room thousands of feet in the air for hours, always about to fall to one’s death. And people wondered why he hated plains. Dean was sure he didn’t properly breathe until they landed in Lawrence.

The taxi was fine enough. His mom or dad probably would have driven him, but he knew both were still at work and Sammy was at school, and he wanted to surprise them. Although if she had, he would have been able to drive the impala. It was a shame the army didn’t have any. He was sure to give her some attention when he made his way up the driveway.

The house hadn't changed much. It was still the same gray blue color it had always been, just with a few more scratches. The tree that connected his and Cas’s bedrooms still stood proud between the homes. Inside there were a few more pictures of a teenage Sam and a new armchair, but other than that it was like walking in four years ago. He climbed the well-worn steps up to the second floor and opened the door to his room.

He stopped dead in his tracks. The face was more rugged and worn, and he was a bit taller than he remembered, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days, but Dean would recognize that trench coat anywhere.

“Cas,” he breathed. The man turned around and those familiar blue eyes stared back at him, full of fear and relief and something else Dean couldn’t quite place. He hadn’t realized how much he truly missed those eyes and the coat and messy hair and everything that was Cas. He walked over to Dean, carefully, as if he couldn’t really imagine he was here. Dean could barely believe it. Cas stood in front of him, his eyes never leaving Dean’s, and the next thing he knew Cas’s fist was connecting with his cheek.

Dean was thrown off his balance, and his torso’s change in position was agony. He doubled over, clutching his face and chest. When he recovered, he looked up to Cas for an answer. But his friend’s face had gone cold, and where there was once wonder in his eyes now only held concentrated fury.

“What the hell?”

Instead of an answer, Cas grabbed his arm and held it up so he could see his wrist. Dean suddenly felt all the heat in his body leave. Cas’s eyes pored over the mark, and when they finally met Dean’s there was hurt and anger. “So it’s true.” It wasn’t a question. Dean didn’t know how to respond. How do you admit to loving your best friend for years?

“I’m sorry,” he offered.

Cas shoved him against the wall, and Dean’s body ached in pain. “You asshole!” Cas shouted. He banged on Dean’s chest repeatedly. “You fucker! Do you have any idea the pain you've caused me?”

Dean blinked at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Cas blew air out of his nostrils presented his forearm to him. Dean gaped at his name marked on Cas’s wrist. “Happy?” he heard Cas sneer. Dean’s eyes then roamed over the rest of the skin, at the scars that stretched across his arm.

“What are those scars?” he asked as he grabbed at Cas’s wrist to get a better look.

Cas pulled his arm away as if he’d be burn. “They’re not important.”

“Yes, they fucking are. What have you been doing to yourself?” he demanded.

“This isn't about me,” Cas barked. “It’s about you not telling me I’m your soul mate.”

“Me?” Dean shoved him away. Cas had pushed over the edge. “Why couldn’t you tell me?”

“I had more to lose?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You were straight,” Cas snapped. “You know I like men, but you said you were straight. You expected to take that chance, tell my best friend, the most important person in my life, I’m in love with them and pray to God they would love me back?” He laughed dryly. “The very least I could hope for was you not running away in fear.” Dean watched Cas take a shaky breath. “I couldn’t risk losing you.” A tear rolled down his cheek. Cas sniffled and wiped his eyes. “Was I not good enough for you?” he asked softly.

Dean shook his head. “No, of course not.”

“Then why did you leave me?” he begged.

“Because I was scared, okay?” he shouted. “I was scared that it was one sided, because, God, Cas you’re perfect. You’re brilliant and kind and adorable. How am I supposed to match that?” Dean gulped. “Why would you want me? An idiot fuckup.” He looked away from Cas. “And yeah, I freaked out when I saw it was you, because I’m not gay. Or I wasn’t. Hell, I don’t know anymore and I don’t care. I love you.” The words were flowing out of him. He couldn’t stop. Everything he had kept bottled inside for years was being put out for Cas to judge, and if was terrifying and amazing. “I should have said that years earlier. I know. Again, I’m a fuck up. But I couldn’t stand it if I had to watch you fall for someone else.”

“So you go across the world to fight a war?” Cas interrupted, bewildered.

Dean glanced up at him and gave him a sad smile. “I told you I was being brave going there. I lied; I’m the biggest coward I ever seen.” He became solemn again. “I don’t deserve you Cas. I never will. I’ve always known that, and I’m the one who proved it.”

His eyes wandered down to Cas’s scars. There were probably others, and one’s he’d never see because they weren't on his skin but his heart. Dean wondered how exactly how much damaged he had caused him. “I’m not asking for your forgiveness,” he stated. “I’m not worthy of it. But so, so sorry. I can’t erased what happened, but I’ll do everything in my power to fix what I can.”

Tears were pouring down Cas’s face. Dean could feel his own eyes water. Neither moved or broke the silence that had fallen over them. But them Cas rushed at him. Dean was sure Cas was going to hit him again, but instead he wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck and buried his face in his collar.

Dean couldn’t hold back any longer. Tears rolled down his cheeks and nose, falling onto Cas. He clenched his coat in his fists and was determined to never let go. Cas pulled Dean into him. God, this was what he was missing. He needed Cas. He was an idiot to think otherwise.

Both eventually stopped crying, but neither could let the other go. Dean was rubbing patterns on the other’s back.

“Cas?” Dean murmured. Cas hummed in response. “Are we okay?”

Cas pulled back to look him in the eye. “No,” he replied. Oh. Dean moved his head and suddenly became very interested in the carpet stains. Cas brought one hand up to gently cup his jaw. He turned Dean’s head to face him. “But we will be,” he explained softly. “It’s just going to take some time.”

Dean gave him a small smile. The shy kind he reserved for Cas. “I’ll be patiently waiting, proving myself to you every day.”

Cas returned the smile and returned to his spot in the crook of Dean’s neck. Dean rested his head on the top of Cas’s head. He breathed him in; everything that was Cas. The stayed there, clung together in the middle of Dean’s childhood room, for maybe an hour, maybe a millennium. Who was really counting?

\----------

_2014 (Age 24)_

“Charlie I can’t do this.”

Cas was pacing across lounge he was shoved into hours ago. He kept undoing and retying his blue necktie. Charlie, decked out to the nines in the black dress he’d picked out for her, was lounging on the side, listening to him rant.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, obviously not concerned.

“I’m going to fuck it up,” he stuttered. “I’m going to go out there, make a mess of myself, and ruin the entire ceremony.”

“Cas, you’ll be fine.”

“What if he doesn't want to do this?” He was shaking now, knees knocking and hands fluttering. “Oh God, he’s going to leave me!”

“It was his idea,” she pointed out.

“But what if-”

“Cas!” Charlie interrupted. She got up and put her hands on his shoulders in an attempt to comfort him. “All of this is just anxiety,” she stated. “As soon as you get out there it will go away. He loves you, you love him. There’s no reason to worry. This is your day. Enjoy it.”

She reached up to smooth out his hair. Even on the most important day of his life it wouldn’t cooperate with him. “Now,” she continued, “I’m going to go out and find Sam so we can be ready when it starts. Your mother will be in here soon.” She squeezed his shoulder and offered him a smile. “Relax.” He returned a quick one, which apparently was good enough for Charlie. She walked out, and for a few minutes he was left to himself. He was still nervous - Cas highly doubted the feeling would fully go away - but he was no longer felt like he going to throw up.

A knock at the door brought him back into the real world. He opened it to find his mother beaming up and him. She pulled him into a hug, which he gladly accepted. “It’s time to go,” she smiled. “Are you ready?”

Cas found himself nodded automatically. Despite the nerves, he was excited and knew he couldn’t wait any longer. His mother locked their hands together and led him into the lobby.

Already the infamous music was playing throughout the hall. Their three couples of grooms’ people (they couldn’t think of a better name) were making their way down the aisle: Anna, Benny, Gabe, and Jo with Charlie and Sam bringing up the rear as their best people. Charlie glanced back at him and shot him a quick thumbs up. His mother squeezed his hand. It was finally his time to walk.

Cas stepped out into the brightness that was the church. Ivy wound up and down the benches and pillars, twisting with itself to make interlocking patterns. Tall candles stood throughout the room adding extra light. Ahead of him the altar, donned in white, proudly held their idea of the bouquet: a collection of blue and white flowers and green plants arranged into a heart. It was sappy, but Cas had insisted.

Around him sat the most important people. Kali and Balthazar were together, both too busy admiring their spouses to notice Cas. He silently laughed. On the other side sat Dorothy with a tiny child on her lap. The baby seemed fascinated with Andrea’s hair and was busy tugging on it. Jo's mother Ellen were near the front. She whistled at him as he walked by and, in response, politely gave her a shove. She laughed as he continued on. Sam’s soul mate Jess, who Cas’s had known for a short amount of time but had quickly grown to love, even came, sitting in the front row and beaming at him.

Cas’s mother let him go to take her seat in the front as stepped up to the altar, where the officiate stood waiting for him. And Cas couldn’t help revel in his triumph of not failing down the aisle or on the short stairway up to his position. As he situated himself the music swelled again and the doors opened one last time.

Cas’s breath was taken away. He had seen his fiancé at several states of attractiveness over the years, but never had Dean looked so beautiful. The smooth tux streamlined his body while accenting the curves of his body. His green tie brought out his candy green eyes. The light shone off his dirty blonde hair, highlighting his freckles. He was gorgeous, and Cas couldn’t look away. He didn’t even notice John and Mary bringing him down the aisle. He only had eyes for Dean.

And Dean only had eyes for him. Their gazes met, and neither one could look away. They seemed to do that a lot. Dean took his place next to his fiancé and grabbed his hand, wrapping his fingers around Cas’s hand.

“Your tie is crooked,” Dean whispered.”

“I was nervous.”

“So was I.” They both exchanged smiles. “I missed you,” Dean confessed.

“Me too,” Cas murmured. “You look amazing.”

“Um, gentlemen,” the officiator interrupted. “If you don’t mind, we should probably get started.” The entire church burst into laughter. Dean turned bright red, and Cas was sure he was the same color.

Friends,” the he began, “we have been invited here today to share with Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak a very important moment in their lives. In the years they have been together, their love and understanding of each other has grown and matured, and now they have decided to live their lives together as husbands.” Dean squeezed Cas’s hand.

“Now I invite the grooms to exchange the rings and give their vows.” Charlie and Sam handed the silver bands to Cas and Dean, respectively. They had wanted to go with a simple design, with only the date October 3rd etched onto the metal: the date of their introduction and wedding.

Dean took Cas’s left hand in his own. He stared into Cas’s eyes and took a shaky breath. “I Dean Winchester, take you Castiel Novak to be my husband, my partner in life and my one true love. I will cherish our union and love you more each day than I did the day before. I will trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, loving you faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face together. I give you my hand, my heart, and my love, from this day forward for as long as we both shall live.” He slid the ring onto Cas’s finger and beamed at him. “I promise.” Cas smiled and took Dean’s hand in his.

“I Castiel Novak affirm my love to you, Dean Winchester as I invite you to share my life. You are the most beautiful, smart, and generous person I have ever known, and I promise always to respect you and love you. I vow to help create a life that we can cherish, inspiring your love for me and mine for you. I vow to be honest, caring and truthful, to love you as you are and not as I want you to be, and to grow old by your side as your love and best friend. I promise.”

As he put the ring on Dean’s finger, he couldn’t help see the tears forming in his fiancé’s eyes. Cas cupped his jaw and stroked his cheek. “I love you,” he mouthed.

“I love you, too,” Dean breathed back. He took both of Cas’s hands in his own. He stroked his thumb against Cas’s right wrist.

The officiate smiled down on them. “Now by the power invested in me by the power of the State of Kansas, I pronounce you married.”

Cas didn’t even wait for the officiator to tell them to kiss. He lunged at Dean and pressed his lips onto Dean’s as his hand’s came up to cradle his face. He wrapped his strong arms around Cas. Dean’s mouth moved against his own, and it took all of Cas’s self-control not to plunge his tongue into his husband’s mouth. Husband. The title sounded wonderful in his head.

Cas pulled away with a nip at Dean’s lower lip, but he stayed pressed flush against him. The two gazed at each other, beaming and utterly happy. Cas linked their right hands together, so their names could touch, and he was determined to never let go.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize if my description of the military and honorable discharges is horribly inaccurate. I tried to research it, but was very hard to find helpful information. I asked my cousin about it, so he's to blame if it's totally off.
> 
> I should be back to writing shorter stories for the prompts soon.


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